Nothing Broken
by smolemu
Summary: Clint is injured and somehow managed to get himself out of an awful situation. He's now safe. There's just one thing on his mind. She needs to know. Injured!Clint - One Shot


'I'm sorry, Tasha,' he gasped out around his wheezing breaths.

She only stared at him.

'I'm sorry,' he said again, unable to look at her anymore, he turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut against the harsh white of Starks infirmary.

'You idiot,' she told him, placing her hand firmly over his, being careful not to get in the way of the doctors at work. 'You didn't know.'

No, he hadn't known, 'but I... I brought you to them. _I_ was the one who-'

'I think you should rest now,' Steve said, unwavering yet deep with emotion.

'Yes,' one of the Doctors said, 'we'll be administering a sedative shortly.'

'Oh,' Clint shuddered, fear gripping at his chest, 'I don't usually-'

'You need it,' Natasha squeezed his hand then calmly stepped away.

'That bad,' he coughed out a chuckle, 'huh?'

Her only response was a slight grim twist of her mouth.

He knew it was bad. Very bad. Abrasions on top of lacerations and bullet holes on top of cracked bones. This was possibly the worst shape he'd ever been while conscious but he needed her to know the truth.

'I'm not- _I'm not_ Hydra,' he gasped raggedly, 'I promise you Tasha I never knew I-'

'I know,' she soothed as he felt a needle enter his arm. 'It's okay,' she said as she returned to his side. 'Nothing's broken Clint,' she promised him as his brain told him there was something new and cold in his blood stream. He only felt relief as his mind went dark. Nothing was broken.

* * *

She had been so relieved when they first heard from Clint. He'd been dark for months and all they had to go on were the unfinished mission reports, and they painted a miserable story. As soon as Pierce had got wind of her assisting Steve he'd sent the order through for Clint's extermination. Active immediately.

Clint had been the head of a team of six stationed in Diomede, Alaska. Mission parameters were redacted. After trawling though the file dump, that she had made, for days, she finally had enough data to determine not only who he had with him but who was Hydra. Four of his team were Hydra.

If Clint were anyone else, she'd assume him dead. She knew he had survived, he must of because she needed to know if he was Hydra. Was Pierce cutting of loose ends when he ordered Clint's death? Or was he cutting of an Avenger? She felt horrible in her uncertainty. You never truly know a person. But now... now they had Clint back, shattered into pieces. Begging for a forgiveness he did not need. He had been deceived just as much as she had.

The thought of Hydra using Clint the way they had used her boiled a new ferocity in her belly. How dare they. Though to the rest of the world, to the rest of the team, she was marble. Untouchable steel. Oh, if only they knew how deeply her anger runs.

* * *

When Clint came around he was no longer in the infirmary. He was in his own bed, well, his bed in Tony's monolith that he wishes he had more time to sleep in. Through his foggy thoughts he realised that probably wouldn't be the case anymore seeing as he was recently violently fired.

He pushed that away. He was safe now, warm too, in a far too cosy bed. In a room far more fancy than he'd ever stayed in, including on those ridiculous missions infiltrating trillionaire assholes lives. High ceilings, tall windows, soft lights of the city bellow twinkling through the sheer voiles.

He hated sedatives, it took him far too long to notice Natasha sitting on a futon (chaise lounge thingy?), to the side of his bed.

'Nnng,' he huffed.

'You've been out a long time Barton,' she drawled effortlessly raising from her somehow both relaxed and poised position.

'Hmf.' He gestured weekly towards the catheter in his arm. He realised that he was hooked up to all kinds of shit now he had the capacity to think about it.

'Sorry,' she smirked, 'we had to. Little birds like you can't handle invasive surgery while conscious. And they've had to give you blood transfusions almost constantly. Plus, saline and nutrients to keep that dumb ass brain of yours functioning.'

She was still trying to be brusque but even a fool like Clint could see the cracks.

'Nothing's broken, Nat,' he wheezed out, though it sounded more like a question than the reassurance he meant.

She grinned.

* * *

I wrote this such a long time ago, I hope it's not terrible ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
